Can You Keep A Secret?
by itano
Summary: Misaki, just like anyone else has his secrets. Big secrets, little secrets, nothing earth shattering. Well, so he thought so…Until someone discovers Misaki's deepest secrets all within a sex tape. Clearly whoever this is, has it out for him…or rather Usami Akihiko, because now this person is threatening to spill every single humiliating detail about their relationship to the press.
1. ONE

**Author's Notes: **So, I posted this story under a different name on tumblr...probably not the smartest idea considering someone might think I'm plagiarizing it by posting it here under this username. **However**, I am the same person! **Junjobingo and itano** are all the same person...just different accounts that are suffering from the results of poor organizational skills.

...So, anyway... hi. Its been quite some time since I've posted anything. If you read my tumblr ( ) you might have noticed that I haven't been around for a while. Recently, I went through some pretty rough times. I decided that the only way I could truly find peace within myself was by facing the darkest aspects of who I am head on. It was terrifying, awful, and so very lonely. BUT, I can say, I am moving forward the future with new ambition and hope for myself.

During this time, I wrote quite a lot for this fandom in particular. I found myself writing light pieces, dark pieces, and somewhere along the lines, this idea came along. It was a spark of light in my life during my darkest hours, a taste of the sunny side that challenged me to find the natural humor in the junjo and sekaii worlds and incorporate that into my own writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Of course this is only installment one! **So now, without further ado**...

**PS.** Thanks for being the most wonderful readers a person can ask for.

* * *

**~ONE~**

**Mizuki Banking**  
Tokyo Branch

Mr. Akihiko Usami  
521, Bunkyo  
Tokyo 21-555-12

6, August 2012

Dear Mr. Usami

Congratulations! As a recent winner of the Yamaguchi lifetime literary award, we understand how proud of you must be of your achievements in your career.

We here at Mizuki Banking are also proud of you and hope to continue supporting you during this transitional time by providing flexible options for customers of a calibre such as yours.

Therefore, we are offering you, Mr. Usami – as a loyal customer of our bank – six months of interest free banking should you decide to open another account with Mizuki. We do hope you decide to take advantage of this offer and we look forward to your partnership for the future.

Once again, congratulations!

Yours Truly,

Niigaki Yuuchi

**TV Asia Studios**  
Tokyo

Mr. Akihiko Usami  
521, Bunkyo  
Tokyo 21-555-12

6, August 2012

Mr. Usami,

We are so proud of your work and your achievement concerning the Yamaguchi lifetime literary award. I, specifically, congratulate you Usami-sensei, on your successes. As the youngest recipient of this honour, you have truly caught the nation's, if not the world's, attention.

Your success is truly inspiring and extraordinary-a story that deserves to be covered on the nation's top prime time early morning news show, Hatsuban.

Perhaps you would be kind enough to reserve our station an exclusive interview with you Usami-sensei, since you have always been such a highlight for our show. If you wish to do so, telephone my assistant Hitomi Funayama to arrange a date for an interview.

Thank you and I will be patiently waiting for your response.

Sincerely,

Ayaka Fujimoto

TV Asia Representative

**Marukawa Publishing **  
Tokyo SW4 325

Mr. Akihiko Usami  
521, Bunkyo  
Tokyo 21-555-12

10, August 2012

Dear Usami-sensei:

It has been five days since you have won your award.

You have made no effort to get in touch with the press, or fans, or even your own editor. This letter is the last resort since it seems that your phone has died, all emails have been ignored, and the house phone cuts directly to voice-mail. I am beginning to question whether or not you've choked on a martini olive and died or if you're hiding in your closet somewhere. Perhaps you would be kind enough to contact me, to assure me that our top writer has truly not gone to the wayside before I get a stomach ulcer.

If I have to drag you out of that apartment by your toenails, you know I will.

Anyway, Ciao!

Love,

Aikawa Eri  
Editor

* * *

From all Misaki could remember it had pounced on him quicker than anything he'd ever seen before. It wasn't like he'd been expecting it to happen. He didn't even remember how it started, it just…did.

He'd woken to a cramped, darkened room, hazy with lingering cigarette smoke that had been polluting the air, stagnant round the ceiling fan, for what felt like days. He groaned, body sprawled awkwardly on the mattress, boxers twisted round his hips. The brunette tried to shift his weight, hoping to find some kind of comfort, but he found himself weighed down in his position, a foreign pressure on his abdomen suddenly heavy like rock. He gripped handfuls of the sheets, heaved his upper body forward, against whatever force was keeping him strapped to the bed, but gravity pulled him back quickly, his skull snapping back to the mattress with a _thunk_. Aggravated, he pried open one sticky eye and attempted to focus it, inhaling sharply.

What? What was that smell? Whatever it was, it was heavy in the stale air of the previous night, sticky and dirty, stinking of yesterday's efforts and ….was that flesh? He couldn't continue to just lie there, he decided, nerves buzzing with a new kind of curious energy that jolted him from his exhaustion. This was starting to look more and more like a potential _Godfather_-like situation.

With that thought, he tried again, pulling himself forward again, this time successfully overcoming the heaviness on top of him, sitting up straight. His spine clicked in protest, and soon followed with a jolt of searing pain that tore down his back. "Ow!" he cursed, his voice scratching its nails against his already raw throat.

Everything seemed weirdly out of proportion. He blinked a few times; well everything looked like it was in place. There were the curtains, the heavy fabric drawn shutting out any possible light from the outdoors, the heavy end tables that sat on each side of the bed, and even that lamp near the door he'd told Usagi-san to move because dammit, he kept tripping on it every time he stepped into the room.

No, something was still very wrong.

Perhaps it was the hundreds of glass eyes and teddy bear faces that were peering at him curiously from their perches on shelves and dressers.

No. It wasn't that either.

Then he felt it.

An inappropriate hand that rustled underneath the sheets, weaselling its way over his stomach. The mischievous fingers danced across the bare skin his t-shirt forgot to cover, making certain to take a leisurely loop round his belly-button, until they worked their way toward the buttons at the front of his boxer shorts. A thought began worming its way into his mind and the brunette suddenly, dizzyingly, came to his senses, sending blood rushing through his ears. _Shit...its Usagi-san...Again! _He grimaced when the hand had managed to pull one button free from its loop. Misaki scrambled, trying to wiggle himself free. No good. He was trapped by the man's other arm.

It was brief, but rattling, making him sag for a moment underneath the weight of Akihiko's leaden arm, drawing an unsteady breath. It had been a week. One week since he had been taken prisoner in the Usami-residence master's bedroom after the Yamaguchi Lifetime Literary award ceremony. That was Thursday of the fifth. Today was the twelfth. Seven days since he'd seen sunlight (okay, so the curtains had been opened once every morning for a good hour before Akihiko decided he wanted his privacy back); seven days since he'd had a proper meal beyond sloppily made bowls of cereal and microwavable cups of ramen; seven days since he'd had any real contact with the outside world.

He summoned all of his energy to say, in a rough voice, "Uh, U-Usagi-san?" No reply besides the hand that was now working at the ever-growing bulge in his boxer shorts.

"_Ah_...U-Usagi-san?"

The silence set in again – until finally a deep, sleep thickened voice responded with a questioning, "Hmmm?" Misaki dropped his gaze and turned his head slowly to the right – low and behold, shirtless and wrapped round his waist was the Lord Usami himself, wearing his most dangerous smirk.

"W-what's going on?" Misaki jerked about again, the panic seeping into his voice. The pressure on his waist pushed down and that same pain in his back jolted his spine. Misaki grimaced, twisting, suddenly realizing the cooking chopstick, no, ice pick that had been worked through his temple, piercing his skin on the other side, leaving a slow burning headache in its wake. The headache was centralized in his right eye—probably the result of his uncomfortable night with his neck propped up on a lumpy stack of pillows – and suddenly felt paralyzed by the pain.

"It's Monday. You know what that means." The man leaned down and pressed a kiss on Misaki's nose. The man smirked before he slinked down, his matted mop of lavender blonde hair eventually disappearing beneath the sheets.

Ah, yes. It was another Misaki Monday. It was a tradition that had started about a month ago after Akihiko read in some men's health magazine, that those in healthy relationships set aside two hours each week for 'intimacy'. Akihiko, who was never one to miss an opportunity for sex, implemented this as the newest Usami-residence law. Of course, the author disregarded the other 10 hours of sex that the couple already engaged in each week (and that was the bare minimum), saying that it was important to get his 'daily fill of Misaki'. The youth tried to rebut, but being that Akihiko was once a law student and rather stubborn at that, the chances of Misaki winning any argument with the man was zero to nothing. Thus, Monday mornings, from seven until nine was Akihiko's "scheduled sex" time. He even had it penned in his agenda.

"Usagi-san! You just had a whole Sunday full of Misaki!" he protested lamely, struggling some more. When he felt the warmth of the man's hand starting to work its way up his shirt, the boy stammered, "Y-you don't have time for this, U-Usagi-san! People are starting to worry about you! Have you even checked your phone since last week?"

The man shifted and Misaki felt soft lips pressed a kiss to the flat plank of his stomach. Then came the tickle of Akihiko's mouth curling into a smirk, as he said, "No."

Misaki, pausing his struggling to huff, "Have you even gotten out of _bed_?"

There was a rather disturbing pause before Akihiko replied, "Well, of course I have. To bathe and urinate." And with that, warm lips were back on his belly, and the pads of calloused fingers closed in, circling round Misaki's nipple.

"T-That is..._ah,_stop it...that is unsanitary! P-plus its not...it's not fair to your fans!"

The kisses stopped for a second, and instead, the low rumble of a chuckle vibrated across Misaki's stomach, sending shivers tinkling down the knobs of his spine. The man stared up at him from under the sheets, his lavender eyes practically glowing against the darkness that surrounded them in his fabric-made grotto. The man's irises really weren't lavender, but rather, a washed out periwinkle blue that happened to catch the ashy hues in his fair hair when the light happened to hit them just right. It was a bizarre effect, which made the man look even more devilish. "How?" he questioned with a grin.

"_How_? You're the winner of the biggest writing award known to Japan and you've been bedridden for days! You haven't said a single word to them! I bet they all think you O. at the reception ceremony or something horrible!"

For the first time all morning, there was a twinge of annoyance in Akihiko's voice, still muffled from his sheet covering. "They know I'm alive," he said, indignantly. There was another bout of shuffling, then Akihiko remerged from the sheets, relocating the offending fabric to the floor before he continued, leaning in, "I sent out a tweet right after everything was over."

Misaki cursed that damn Twitter-he hated it ever since Aikawa forced Akihiko to create an account claiming that, "All the hottest authors have one to keep in touch with what the public wants." Which seemed like a good idea in concept...but it soon became the author's newest excuse for never leaving the apartment for fan meetings.

The man slid back against him, close, smoothly, turning his attention back to plucking at Misaki's nipple, the cool, air-conditioned air kissing at the younger man's bare skin. Misaki gasped, losing his breath for a second, before he managed to say, "T-that is _not _a public statement, Usagi-san! It's barely 100 words!"

"Actually it _is_ 150 words, love," Akihiko corrected with a grin. "Short, but got the point across. Plus, why would you _want _to go outside right now? There are probably photographers swarming."

Misaki opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off from a low moan that had been boiling in his belly. Akihiko purred with delight, his hand curving back down Misaki's quivering body inching lower and lower, until...

_Bring! Bring! Bring!_

Akihiko's smouldering eyes froze over, all the muscles in his body stiff, shooting an icy glare in the general direction of where the ringing was coming from. Misaki shrugged helplessly. The older man, frowning, followed the sound with his gaze until he was able to located the violent vibrating to a heap of laundry that had been strewn to the corner of the room that looked curiously similar to the outfit Akihiko had worn the night he received his award.

Misaki saw a glimmer of hope on the horizon when the phone started its second round of ringing. Whoever was calling, wasn't giving up. He returned his gaze back to Akihiko, determinedly. "You should get that Usagi-san. Someone is looking for you."

"So?"

"It could be important!" Misaki said sharply.

After a few heartbeats of silence, the author shrugged and turned back to Misaki, his hands regaining their previous naughtiness. _Dammit! That was my only chance out of here! _Misaki sighed, clamping his eyes shut as he anticipated the impending touch that was hovering low over his boxers. _Wait. Perhaps... _

"Hey, you know, it might be _my_phone. I…I was expecting a call from, uh, Iijun-sensei."

That little white lie worked like a charm because the author tensed once again, this time that chilly lavender gaze directed itself at Misaki. "_That _guy? Why is he calling?"

Misaki's gaze drifted, his mind racing for a reply. "Uh...er...because..._because_ he said that wanted to go out with me for some cakes! To reward me for all the surveys I had to read for him. I practically read a thousand of them!" His breath caught in his throat and his lungs clenched as he waited for Akihiko's response. _Please, please, please get jealous. _

Akihiko stiffened at once, his eyes sharpening. "Misaki, I've told you that I won't allow you to hang around that guy. He has only bad intentions!"

_So close. You're so close. You can practically taste freedom._Misaki forced down the smile that was starting to quirk at his lips, and coughed himself back into his role. "It wasn't my fault Usagi-san! I couldn't refuse Iijun-sensei. He's one of the biggest writers I work with. I can't disappoint him!"

If Akihiko was tense before, Misaki couldn't put words to the slightly haunting stillness of the body on top of him now. The author finally snipped, "Well, I'm your _lover_! You shouldn't want to disappoint _me_!"

This was it. Misaki's final act. He swallowed hard, made certain that his bubbling giggles were thoroughly suppressed with a serious tone, and he replied archly, "Well, I'm not going to tell him to leave me alone. I could lose my job…you'll have to do it."

Bingo. It was the golden phrase because within a second, Akihiko was rolling off Misaki, then off the mattress, hollering, "Fine! I'm making certain that jackass never bothers to call here again!" He stomped around the room, looking for the singing heap of laundry among the hundreds of other piles of dirty clothing that littered the floor. Misaki rolled his eyes, of course when Akihiko's back was turned, and with all the grace he could manage to muster up, he slipped off the mattress, grabbed his jeans off the floor and slipped them on, and began tiptoeing toward the door, ever so carefully, placing his hand on the brass doorknob and turning it...

And with that, Misaki managed to sneak out. Akihiko, his back still turned, fiddling with Misaki's cell phone (which hadn't been called at all). He didn't seem to notice the sound of the door creaking open while he spat curses and threats sourly at the device that was asking for a pass code. But he did hear the door slam itself shut once Misaki had made it out into the hall, and when he did, he made his revelation loud and clear, his voice thundering down the stairs, "Misaki! Get back in this room! Now!"

But no voice Akihiko could make was enough to scare him back into that wretched bedroom for another three days (or however long the author planned to hide in there). Determination took over as Misaki dashed down the stairs, socks slipping on wood floors, snatched a set of keys from the kitchen counter, smashed his feet into a pair of sneakers and left the apartment with a slam.

"Yes!" he cheered underneath his breath as he scrambled down the hall toward the elevator. He pressed the button a million times, hopping up and down as he waited for the elevator to come (they lived on the twentieth floor; there was no way Misaki was taking the stairs). He glanced back over his shoulder, down the long corridor that ended where Akihiko's door stood, overbearing and mahogany, making the rest of the hall look strangely miniature in comparison. A few heartbeats later, the heavy metal doors eased their way open, Misaki scrambled inside, stabbing at the ground floor button with his index finger over and over. Finally the doors shut, the car began descending down the shaft, and Misaki practically collapsed under the weight of his relief. He smiled wearily.

He knew Akihiko was probably smashing his fist against the closed doors of the elevator (Misaki was certain Akihiko didn't even know that there were stairs in the apartment), still throwing on his clothes and hollering like a mad man – also knew that in a few hours, he was going to be severely punished for this act of treason. But despite the sharp reminders that his logic was feeding him one by one, Misaki couldn't seem to stop grinning. Perhaps this was the first time he'd ever disobeyed Akihiko.

The thought was thrilling and although he wanted to just bounce out the apartment complex and into the streets, he was able to reign himself in, exit the elevator, and make his way to the door without attracting any attention. The last thing he needed was for Akihiko to ask someone in the lobby if they'd him and what direction he went, giving the man a free head start. Even so, Misaki was smiling – no he was beaming – feeling as if he'd just cheated the devil himself.

He popped outside, out into the cool morning air for the first time in seemingly forever, the punishing beams of the summer sun having yet to pierce their way through the clouds.

He glanced around – unlike what Akihiko had said, there was no swarm of photographers outside. It wasn't a complete lie about the photographers – after two days of being dubbed as the youngest man to earn Yamaguchi Award with no public appearances, the media came searching for him, here at his flat. They waited for hours at a time, figuring that the man couldn't possibly stow away in his flat _forever_. Two days later they had seemingly lost hope, and one by one the photographers dissipated, interests shifted to a popular singer's recent marriage scandal. Today the streets round the apartment were unusually quiet for a Monday morning and Misaki rolled his eyes at Akihiko's ignorance. _Usagi-san, you are so conceited; you just think everyone is obsessed with you. The cameras left days ago. You aren't interesting anymore._

Misaki gave one last look at the apartment building that rose high above the streets casting a massive gray shadow in its wake, and hurriedly left the street. He grimaced at the thought of Akihiko finding him. Beyond punishments and humiliations, Misaki felt that barely audible, but oh so present, voice in his head informing him grimly that his little cat and mouse game with Akihiko might have been cute for a good ten minutes, but by now, he probably had the man genuinely worried. Trouble, it scolded. You're causing him trouble.

Misaki, shaking his head, tried to rationalize with himself.

It wasn't like the aggression Akihiko was displaying was entirely unnatural for a bad day or good– he was usually demanding and hated to see things not go his way, the product of a lifetime of coddling and constant self esteem reinforcement. Though, it wasn't like Akihiko to deliberately hurt people, and despite the anger he was showing, there was probably a good chance that Akihiko was feeling some kind of guilt tearing at the walls of his stomach by now. Emotions hit Akihiko hard, though he hated to show it and often masked them with aloof cockiness, and that was why his writing was acclaimed for being 'passionate' and 'provoking'. He'd take all the emotions that he kept bottled up for the day and spill them onto his words, his elixir for bringing fantasies to life. It was also, Misaki guessed and flushed, that Akihiko's powerful emotions were the driving force of his persistent "romantic" gestures – he just wanted to share those same feelings with someone he truly trusted.

Well…now he felt _worse_ about the whole thing.

Sighing, Misaki made his way down the street, not quite sure where he was heading. The farther he got from the apartment, the more his stomach began twisting itself into knots. Eventually, he found a park bench and sat down, feeling the old wood creek under his weight. "I can't believe I ran away from Usagi-san," he mumbled. Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he closed his eyes, ran his fingers through his thin hair. "I wonder if he's worried about me…. or just pissed..."

He sat there for a long while, watching the early morning work force heading toward the business district of the city. He forgot how nice morning air smelled, crisp and clear of the day before. He had to admit, his escape was well deserved. "I spoiled him for a whole week," Misaki thought out loud. "He had it coming for him." That thought was enough to bring the smile back to his features as he lifted himself up and began heading toward the donut shop up the road.

Sure that nagging voice was there in the back of his mind, blaming him for every one of Akihiko's problems, and he had to remind himself again that Akihiko was the one that fucking _imprisoned_ him for a week and deserved to play Escape From Alcatraz with the boy for a few hours – but rationalizations and mollifications aside, Misaki found that nothing quite assuaged the guilty heart like a maple-glazed donut. And for the extra guilty heart, he decided, he deserved a whole dozen.


	2. TWO

**Author's Note**: **Good evening**, or to some, **good morning**! Welcome to chapter 2! Today a new character appears! I hope you enjoy.

**PS. **Thank you so far for your reviews! It means so much to me! Read, review, and check out** junjobingo** on tumblr!

* * *

**TWO**

After two hours of meandering around the shops, Misaki decided it was only fair that he went back to the apartment - plus, the glaze on his donuts was beginning to melt as the sun made its ascent into the summer air. Back through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hall, all the way to the man's apartment that was apparently empty because Misaki wasn't throttled the second he stepped through the door.

"Usagi-san?" he called out for good measure.

Nothing.

Misaki shrugged, set his donuts on the counter, and went to see if there was anything on the television (Akihiko refused to allow Misaki full access to his favourite historical television dramas after the boy had made a fatal comment about one of the actresses being pretty, so to watch TV was a rare treat).

As Misaki started to sink deep into the sofa, he could feel himself beginning to relax. Akihiko was nowhere to be found after a whole hour. _He's probably sulking. Or trying to hunt me down. Please God, please don't tell me he's harassing my friends! _He glanced over at Suzuki-san, who was sitting next to him - the bear's pair of beady eyes were staring at him with what he imagined was a sympathetic twinge, as if to apologize for his master's unruly behaviour.

Misaki took another donut from the box that was open on the coffee table (what number was he on again? Five?) and stuffed his mouth with a satisfied sigh. He wondered how long Akihiko would be gone. Probably forever, Misaki thought, amused.

He imagined having the apartment all to himself for the rest of his life...no molestation, no hollering, no being bossed around for the rest of his life. He glanced around the empty room and smiled. _First off, I'd get rid of that stupid train set in the bedroom and actually dust the place. _

Caught in a fantasy of breaking into Usagi-san's bank account to renovate the kitchen to resemble the same one in THE KAN (if he _really_ wanted to do it, he always knew where the man kept all his banking pin numbers), Misaki didn't even notice when the doorbell rang. In fact, he didn't notice it until the second ring. "I'll get it!" Misaki called out to the empty apartment, by force of habit, and began heading to the door...then he starting thinking and his heart dropped and he stopped in his tracks. With that thought, he even took a few steps backward. _Shit, Usagi-san is probably home. _

He wanted to hide or cry. Or throw himself off the balcony.

Oh God. He was in real trouble. He knew what Akihiko would do to him - something horribly embarrassing and mentally scarring and probably perverted. He ran through a list of things Akihiko had yet to do to him - sex in car, check; sex in water, check; sex against window, check - and suddenly his stomach turned. _Oh God he's going to try to have sex with me outside!_

He had to get out. Fast.

But while he was devising an escape plan, the other side of his brain was doing a little more thinking, and finally a small voice in his head reminded him that Akihiko would never wait outside the door if he had his own set of keys.

_Remember this __**is**__ his apartment._

Oh. Right. Who would ring the doorbell to their own apartment?

He sighed, relieved, and continued his way to the door, half chuckling to himself, half thanking the gods it was just a false alarm. When he opened the door he was pleased and whatever left over panic that was tingling in his throat was washed down with a wave of relief - no Usagi-san. In fact, he didn't even know the unfamiliar face who was staring down at him, curiously. Misaki blinked. "Erm, hello?"

He wasn't trying to be rude. It was just that Akihiko rarely had guests - the only people Misaki had ever seen round the apartment in fact were Isaka, Aikawa, and Kamijou.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man said, turning his gaze downward sheepishly. "This is quite a surprise though. I was told that Usami Akihiko lives here."

"No, you're right!" Misaki replied, pleasantly. "He does live here. He's just not in now." _Actually, he's probably stomping around the city like Godzilla - I'm surprised you didn't notice (or hear) him out there..._

"Oh...what a shame. When will he be around again?" the young man inquired.

"Umm, he kind of comes and goes...so I'm not certain," he replied. He turned his gaze to the floor, grumbling underneath his breath, "He's a maniac, so who actually knows?"

There was a pause. The man didn't seem satisfied though with the response; he was giving Misaki curious looks up and down, and suddenly everything was rather awkward and Misaki's gaze slipped down to the toes of his socks. Finally the man said, "I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but are you his younger brother? I was never told that he had any younger siblings?"

"I don't," a smooth, deep voice suddenly answered behind the young man in the doorway and Misaki's froze. The visitor turned around suddenly, and the curious expression on his face was replaced with a strange mix of relief and awe. He backed out of the doorway quickly, bowing about a million times at once, as if he were in the presence of a demi-god. Misaki on the other hand, swore he heard his heart drop into his lungs at the sound of that voice. He was in deep shit now.

"You're right. I am the youngest," Akihiko continued, in that smooth patrician's voice that he currently deployed to great effect, as he stepped his way into the apartment. He gave Misaki a foreboding look that said_, Later, darling_, before he brought his attention back to the conversation. Lavender eyes, the usual frost in his gaze melting with artificial warmth, narrowed slightly. "You've really done your homework. Impressive. Its been proven rather difficult to gather that kind of information about me."

The man opened his mouth – as if he had a million things to say all at once, and was unsure which to say first – but finally, he just swallowed hard and said, "G-good morning Usami-sensei. I am Oya Ai and I work with Japan Weekly Magazine. It's such a pleasure to meet you. I've been studying your works for years so it truly is an honour." The young man bowed again, so deeply that his nose almost rammed into his kneecaps.

Akihiko raised his brows in exaggerated interest. "Years? Hmm, what would a young man like you want to know about me?"

"H-honestly, just about everything," Oya breathed, still clearly enamoured by Akihiko's presence. "I…I'm actually planning on writing something, a in-depth piece about you. T-that is, if you give me your permission."

"A story about a man who writes stories," Akihiko mumbled, thinking aloud. This time he was really curious. Misaki could tell by that slight quirk in his brow and the way the man crossed his arms over his chest. Then, Misaki took notice of Oya, who was just standing there, shifting from one foot to the other, his breath hitched – Misaki felt a wave of sympathy for the young man. He remembered the first time he met Usagi-san, the whole man's presence was intimidating and for those first few days, there were moments where he forgot how to breathe. A moment passed before the author turned his attention back at the young man. "Sounds promising enough. Come in, so you can tell me about this story," Akihiko said with one smooth inviting gesture. Please don't tell me that Misaki-san has had you standing at the door for long."

"No, he just came as soon as you arrived." Oya let Akihiko lead him into the house. He gave Misaki one last questioning glance from over the shoulder before he followed the author into the apartment.

"Good, good," Akihiko purred, his fingers brushing against the back of the sofa as he rounded the love seat. "He's a good boy but he has his quirks."

Misaki, who was trailing behind them, shuffling his socks against the polished wood floors, scoffed underneath his breath. _Quirks? You were the one who refused to answer the phone for days and tried to trap me in the bedroom and make me your sex slave! If anyone is quirky, it is most definitely you!_

"He seems very nice," Oya commented. "Though, may I ask the relation?" When Akihiko hesitated, Oya added, cautiously, "He doesn't look much like an Usami, that's all."

But Akihiko, being Akihiko, quickly regained his host-like manner and was back to purring, "Oh, he's far from an Usami. He's a friend's younger brother. I'm allowing him to stay in the house while I tutor him for school."

"How generous."

"No, he does the chores around the house, so I say it's a fair trade. In fact, some days, I don't know what I'd do without him around. He definitely keeps me _busy_." Akihiko turned around and gave Misaki a quick, significant look from over his shoulder and the boy blushed furiously. The author led the guest to other side of the sofas and they both sat down. Misaki retreated to the kitchen and set to fiddling around with the pots and pans that were scattered in the lower cabinets of the island counter while he listened in to the conversation. He couldn't imagine what an author could even write about Akihiko. The man barely did anything besides harass him, bark demands, and write all day.

"Now," Akihiko started, "About that story. What are you planning on writing about? It seems you've already gathered quite a bit of information about me and yet, I cannot think of a single thing about myself that would be magazine material."

Misaki knew this was just another one of Akihiko's cunning little games – he played it with every interviewer he encountered, using that coy, _"Who? Little ol' me?"_ voice, pretending that he was overwhelmingly humble when in reality, he was just as pompous as anyone would expect a multi-millionaire, celebrity author to be.

"Oh, it wouldn't be anything about current events. Rather, a biography of sorts," Oya explained. "People are really curious about you, especially since you've won the Yamaguchi Award, you were on Forbes Magazine's "30 under 30" Millionaires list last month, and your latest mystery novel is set to have a movie series in the next year. The public knows your works Usami-sensei, but now, people want to know the man behind the magic. So, I wanted to, I guess, introduce you properly." There was a pause. "I've already talked to your editor, Aikawa-san, and she was thrilled with the idea," Oya added quickly, supplementing his request.

Misaki, who was cubing a zucchini, perked at this. How on earth could this guy figure out who Akihiko's personal editor was? Well, he figured, it was common knowledge that Akihiko was on Marukawa Publishing's author line up and once someone knew that, it was simple to call and ask for Akihiko's personal editor for interviewing purposes. And knowing Aikawa, who was always looking for new ways to promote Akihiko, an interview with a magazine as popular as Japan Weekly would surely be tempting. When Misaki glanced at Akihiko, it was apparent that he thinking the exact same thing–then a wave of discomfort creased his brow and he ran his tongue along the ridges of his front two teeth. The man was probably imagining Aikawa's shrill scream in his ear, scolding him for passing up this opportunity. Misaki smiled slightly.

Finally, once Akihiko was able to get his wits about him, he replied, "Sounds interesting enough. Though, to be honest, I'm not as interesting as most people think. I'm really, very normal." Misaki rolled his eyes at that and went to fetch some vegetables from the refrigerator.

"But I think that's what makes you so mysterious," Oya exclaimed. He caught himself, blushed, and coughed down his excitement, his voice lowering back to that tight professional tone. "You're one of the most successful men in Japan and yet, you seem so humble. We all want to know how you got to this point, what makes you the master of your craft, and how others can aspire to follow in your footsteps."

That earned another eye roll from Misaki – the _last_ thing the world really needed was a whole generation of self-absorbed monsters like Akihiko.

There was a pause and the lavender blonde shifted, wriggling a cigarette carton from his slacks pocket, slightly crumpled, taking one out and sliding it between his lips. "Well, Oya-san, I don't see any problem with being followed around for a bit," he finally said, locating his lighter next. "It might be…interesting."

The young reporters eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Sure," the man agreed. He lit up, face flickering orange for a second, and inhaled deeply. He exhaled a breath of smoke, tucking away his lighter, his eyes slipping shut, finally satisfied. They sat that way for a moment, Akihiko relishing that single breath of smoke, until his eyes opened once more, his full attention directed to Oya. "As long as you add in a little extra charm for me. I don't want to look like a dirty, old dog in front of the whole nation." Akihiko smirked and Oya laughed.

"There's no way that could be possible, Usami-sensei," Oya replied, politely, but it was obvious the journalist was giddy with the man's approval. Akihiko seemed pleased as well and offered himself for some more amicable chatting, crossing one long leg over the other, burning cigarette balanced between his fingers. Within fifteen minutes the two men were chortling along like two peas in a pod. They planned to start having Oya spend a few hours every day with him for the next two weeks, starting with a party Akihiko was planning (being forced) to attend on Friday night. Then Oya, remembering his place, apologized for his unprofessional behaviour and Akihiko waved the man's worries away with a carefree flick of the hand.

"Its good for a writer to be comfortable with their subjects. That way you'll be comfortable to ask me some hard hitting questions when the time is necessary."

His smirk was in full force again, which made Oya's eyes brighten once more. After a good-bye, and a slue of clumsy bows, Oya backed his way out of the apartment, leaving Akihiko and Misaki very much alone.

"Now, love," Akihiko said, rising from his seat slowly. He made his way to the kitchen, a single finger trailing along the granite of the island counter behind him as he slunk his way closer and closer to Misaki. His voice was tight, using all the restraint he could muster to keep his tone even. "That little stunt you pulled this morning…I must say, I'm rather surprised," he purred.

"W-why?" Misaki asked, trying to remain calm, his eyes flicking to the approaching author. There was no point in running now…he just straightened his back, took a deep breath, and reassured himself that Akihiko couldn't force him to do _anything_. He readjusted the knife in his hand and resumed chopping slices from the onion on the cutting board. "I-I…thought you knew me better than that."

"I'm just perturbed, that's all," the voice came easily, the smirk starting to curl his lips darkened his words. He closed the distance between them slowly. His voice practically dropped octave as he purred, "Honestly I didn't think you had the _balls _to do it."

A shiver bolted through the brunette's spine, a flush brightening his slightly sun kissed cheeks. He stiffened, darting a glance over his shoulder, facing those icy narrowed eyes straight on, quivering.

"W-why do you say crap like that?" Misaki sputtered, once he found the breath to speak. "I'm … just as much of a man as you are."

By now Akihiko was dangerously close, buzzing around Misaki's ear as he murmured, "I've seen the lay of the land down there…and being frank, to put us into the same category would be a blatant lie." He pulled away for a second, tilting his chin down, to maintain eye contact despite their height difference. "And, after I'm done with you today, you'll see how much I…_despise_ lies."

Misaki finally, finally, raised his gaze, terrified.

Then the man closed in.

Misaki dropped the knife suddenly, heard the wooden handle crack against the cutting board, and tried to scramble away. "L-listen, Usagi-san! I-I had to—"

But it was too late. That pair of strong arms was wrapping around his waist and pulling him close to the man's firm chest, immuring him there. He struggled but there was no escape and now he was prisoner to the obviously ticked man who was buzzing against his ear, "I practically searched every alleyway in a five mile radius. I hope you realize there are consequences for being so defiant with me, Misaki."

"W-what do you mean! …Hey Usagi-san, don't bite my ear! Oww!" The author managed to locate a patch of Misaki's ear that wasn't hiding underneath his shaggy hair, and nipped at the cartilage with just enough pressure to pinch. "Stop it jackass! That hurts!"

"You know how I get when you don't play fair," he warned devilishly. His hand slid higher on Misaki's arm, grabbing the jerking limb and crushed his fingers against the muscle. Voice low, he disclosed, "I, personally, like a game with a few rules. However, since you obviously think that you can ignore any chivalry, I suppose I'll play your way. No rules, this time. See if you can keep up now, my pet."

"Stop it!" Misaki said sharply, wrenching himself back and forth even harder. His eyes bolted round the room wildly, searching for an out, something to save him. There was a moment when Akihiko's harsh grasp wavered, his fingers slipping ever so slightly against Misaki's balmy, bare skin. He whipped around, meeting the man's firm stare with defiance. "You're the one who trapped _me_ in your room for days, lying and saying that there were too many paparazzi to go outside. If anyone is a liar, its _you_."

The blonde growled, then leaned in wordlessly nipped at the shell of the boy's ear little bit harder this time. Misaki gasped at the pain. This was crossing the border of Akihiko's usual sexual quirks (and the man had quite a few of them). The thought of S&M crossed Misaki's mind and his heart dropped into his stomach and his palms began to sweat. _There is no way in hell I am letting him do that to me. Ever! I refuse to be embarrassed!_

He wriggled against Akihiko's tight grasp with all of his might, feeling those mischievous teeth working their way down his jugular. He barely noticed that Akihiko was backing them toward the stairs. "Are you going to be a good boy?" he asked against Misaki's jaw. "Or, am I going to have to teach you a lesson about disobeying your master?"

"Y-you're not my master!" Misaki snapped and Akihiko just chuckled darkly. Then came another sharp nip at his skin. "Oww!"

"You sure are feisty. I don't know if that little trait is going to be in your best interests today."

"W-what do you mean?" Misaki asked. By now he felt his knees starting to go weak and his mind began tossing thoughts around like socks in a dryer. Akihiko gestured upstairs, and for some reason – call it fear, or sheer delusion – Misaki unwillingly obeyed and began his death march back toward Akihiko's bedroom. On the way up, the man slapped Misaki's ass good and hard, and the boy yelped.

"So cute," Akihiko smirked. "And yet, so very, very naughty."

And with that, Misaki was dragged back to the bedroom and thrown to the mattress, as if he'd never escaped at all.

Akihiko ravished him, not once, or twice, but three times in two hours. There was no S&M – though the man did give Misaki the occasional playful swat on the bottom – but it was traumatizing enough that Misaki swore that he'd never, ever disregard Akihiko again.

_Nii-chan, I'm being held captive by an unruly tyrant. If only you knew this side of him, you'd see Usagi-san in an entirely different light..._

* * *

**Marukawa Publishing **

Tokyo SW4 325

Mr. Akihiko Usami  
521, Bunkyo  
Tokyo 21-555-12

15, August 2012

Dear Usami-sensei:

I'm sorry to hear about your bladder infection.

Of course, I expect you gather control over your bladder in the next two hours because you have a party to attend. Do not even claim that it's contagious – remember that the Internet is at my fingertips.

Love,  
Aikawa Eri  
Editor


	3. THREE

**Author's note: **Hugs and love to all those who have reviewed, favorited, watched, and read the story so far! I can feel each and everyone of your eyes on me, motivating me to continue!

Sadly, in the next two weeks I will be forcing myself into social isolation due to a schedule of looming finals. Ah, the pains of university life! Anyway, I plan to have a one-shot up within the week, so hopefully that will keep everyone at bay until Christmas break begins. Hope everyone has a good week!

* * *

**THREE **

Whenever Robert Aoyama had a book release reception party it was legendary and strictly A-list. And as it was covered by every gossip magazine in town, it was impossible for Usami Akihiko to come up with a lie big enough to get him out of going. Every two summers (yes Robert, being an ex-editor of an American news magazine had a very precise release schedule) Akihiko would receive one of those gold-plated card stock invitations in the mail, and it became a thorn in his side knowing that Aikawa was more than physically able to emasculate him if he "fucked this publicity opportunity up". No matter how hard he tried to get himself sick - from sitting outside in the pouring rain in his boxers, to eating the mysterious remnants of a fast-food Chinese run from a past life that he'd unburied in Hiroki's refrigerator, no matter how many hours he spent crafting the perfect lie, he could never seem to get out of the miserable reception.

Now, sitting at the bar in an exclusive club that faced the ocean, Akihiko was requesting for yet another dirty martini, his..._ wait._ How many was that again? Misaki had lost count. That wasn't good. Aikawa had put him on babysitting duty, to make sure Akihiko didn't drink too much...and he hadn't been paying attention. _Well, great. _

Misaki had to admit: the whole event was pretty swish. Not that he necessarily preferred such...exclusive parties - the whole place was buzzing with braying men and posh women, _important_-looking people, who were clustered around the club, going on about how marvellous the novel was and how Aoyama-san was so very talented.

For about the millionth time since arriving – Misaki had lost count of this too – Akihiko grumbled something about the '_fucking cameras'_. "I can't even take a _piss_ without being photographed," he growled to the polished mahogany bar and as if on queue a bright light flashed from over Misaki's shoulder. At first Misaki had no idea what cameras Akihiko was talking about. He thought all the flashing was from like a strobe light or something...then it dawned on him that a strobe light was _so_ middle-school birthday party and the bursts of light were coming from the swarms of magazine reporters who were snapping pictures with those massive cameras. He flushed and went back to drinking whatever Akihiko ordered him, feeling his carefully groomed confidence starting to plummet into his stomach.

"Do you know how much longer we have left?" Akihiko asked, his bottled irritation starting to become tight in his voice.

Misaki wriggled his phone from his slacks pocket and replied, "About two hours. It's almost midnight now."

Akihiko groaned, that is until the bartender was handing him another martini glass and Akihiko swallowed the noise with a curt, but polite, "Thank you." Then his face contorted back into a scowl and he began suckling at the alcohol saying, "Can't we just leave early? They've already got my picture, so I have proof that I was here."

Misaki cringed and said, "We'll stay just thirty minutes more Usagi-san. It's not _that_ terrible." Honestly, if he hadn't promised Aikawa that he'd manage the unruly author, he probably would have up and left too. This was definitely not Misaki's race, this crowd of polished looking, expensive people. Even if Misaki was dressed in the finest suit he had – Akihiko wanted to buy him a new one, but Misaki insisted that he hadn't even worn the ten suits Akihiko had already bought him - he felt rather weedy and shrunk into the bar stool, hoping that the photographers would trash the pictures with him in it. _Of course, I'd be in the background. _

"Yes it is," Akihiko retorted, sourly. "I just want to go home and have a nice good fuck."

Misaki coughed at the lewd statement and hissed, "Don't say that so casually like it's a cup of coffee! There are people everywhere that will _hear_ you!"

Akihiko just simply blinked and said, "So? I really don't care what this glitterprati thinks. It's the twenty-first century. I can fuck the living daylights out of you if I really..."

A familiar voice called from behind them, cutting Akihiko off. "Usami-sensei! Thank goodness you're here!" Both men turned away from the bar as Oya, the journalist from yesterday, made his way toward the bar. Misaki felt a wave of relief at the sight of him – not him himself, he barely knew Oya and last time they met he really didn't seem to enthusiastic about Misaki's presence, but rather at the fact that Misaki wasn't the only plebeian in the room now. He noted that Oya looked generally the same, his wavy brown hair gelled and his clothing replaced with a pressed suit. Today, Misaki noted, he was carrying a tape recorder with him.

"I was starting to think that I came to the wrong party or something!" Oya explained with a weak smile. "I never guessed you'd be hiding back here."

"Sorry to admit, but I'm a bit of a wallflower," Akihiko's voice softened into a low purr, Misaki's eyes flickering in his direction. He already pasted on that infuriating smile and was standing to shake Oya's hand.

Oya's attention shifted to Misaki and he scrutinized the boy with a quick swiping glance, before saying, "I see you brought your…friend with you," as if he were surprised at his being invited.

Akihiko raised a brow. "You mean Takahashi? Ah, yes, he's a new intern at Marukawa Shouten, so I figured I'd take him out on a field trip, for a little lesson in schmoozing. Plus, he's the best wingman I could possibly ask for." Moving closer and lowering his voice, he said, "He keeps me from getting too drunk."

Oya grinned as if suddenly Misaki's presence made sense but didn't make any comment. He gave Misaki another long, suspicious look before he turned back to Akihiko, smile in full force. There was a pause in the conversation, a young girlish photographer to the opportunity to coax Akihiko into taking a photograph. There were a few more bright flashes following hers, another slue of magazine reporters catching their memories of the moment as well, before the young lady thanked Akihiko, praised his latest novel, and scurried off.

Oya glanced at Akihiko and said, "I bet you get tired of the all the cameras in your face."

"Who doesn't," Akihiko said, exhaling a long sigh. "But I've gotten used to it – sort of," he corrected himself when Misaki gave him a sceptical look. He reached into his pocket and managed to pull out a rumpled box of cigarettes and his lighter. He tapped one out, slipped it between his lips, and lit it, relishing the slow burn of smoke against his tongue. "It has never been my thing, but I cannot bring myself to remember a day when my family wasn't in constant spotlight. Sure, it is not on the same scale as Hollywood fame, but it is fame."

Oya raised a brow and asked, "Do you ever read about yourself in magazines? Like the things they say about you."

"Never," Akihiko said. "Can't bring myself to care enough." Akihiko, with his burning smoke balanced between his fingers, picked up his glass and took a sip. "I figure that if what they are saying is not the truth, why should I trouble myself with it?"

The young journalist nodded, agreeing with the other author's stance. "So you're saying that the weekly gossip magazines don't report your information accurately?"

Akihiko shrugged and said in good humour, "I wouldn't know. I don't read them."

Oya blushed, understanding the lack of foresight in his question, and Akihiko grinned. Misaki couldn't decide whether it was real or fake this time. Normally, Akihiko never smiled so much around the press; sure he'd force a pleasant expression in public but never before had Misaki seen Akihiko behave so… seemingly genuine. Perhaps Aikawa suggested that he practice his acting lately after displaying some bad behaviour around the press, Misaki wondered. Or maybe he really truly liked Oya…

But it wasn't like Oya was very special or anything, he quickly noted. As the two men indulged one another in their reviews about the host's book, Misaki's eyes fell on Oya. He was taller, rangier, and more stalwart in build than Misaki, average in almost every physical aspect. The way his facial expressions were guarded and tight, his lips pressed into a firm line even as his eyes sparkled at Akihiko's every word – his presence was obsolete in older man's wake, making Misaki question what on earth could be so interesting to Usagi-san about a guy who was so dull in comparison.

Then again…Akihiko _did_ have some kind of strange affinity toward Misaki's personality. He blushed. Misaki had to admit – he himself was on the boring side as well…

Okay, all right. So perhaps the attraction wasn't physical. He could understand Akihiko's connection to Oya, being that they were both writers and well versed in literature, and Akihiko was probably flattered that the younger man was willing to gush over him in a national magazine and boost his already stellar reputation. For all Misaki knew, Akihiko was just doing a damn good job of promoting himself.

Either way, their newly budding relationship left Misaki on the outskirts as the party buzzed behind him. He spent the rest of his evening sipping at his choice in alcoholic beverage and pretending to be politely interested in the two men's conversation as they discussed everything from their favourite books to the best clothing stores. Misaki spoke four times – he counted – including when he excused himself to go the restroom. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk, he tried, but nothing he said made much sense and then Oya gave him another one of those goading looks that crushed any opinion that Misaki had on the subject.

Once Aikawa popped up around one a.m., she managed to pry Akihiko away from the young writer long enough to send the famous author and his tagalong back home. "You had fun, right?" Akihiko asked Misaki on the way home. The brunet nodded as he stared out the window, the slightest smile gracing his features. The older man chuckled and murmured, "I love you," before he reached over and took Misaki's smaller hand in his own, using both their hands to rotate the stick-shift the rest of the ride home.

Akhiko wrapped his arms around Misaki as he brushed his teeth and kissed him on the forehead before they went to sleep, just like any other normal night. See, Misaki thought as he lay in bed, there was nothing more to Oya's relationship with Akihiko than amicable business. He was still undeniably number one in Akihiko's heart and no new friend would change that.

He laughed at himself for being so silly.

~o~

For the next week and a half, Oya accompanied Akihiko wherever he went. Most of the time he spent sitting on the sofa in their apartment, chatting amicably with Akihiko – he even bothered to speak to Misaki a couple times, though their conversation usually remained short and distant. By Thursday of next week, Oya had become just as permanent of a fixture on the love seat as Suzuki-san. He did ask about the stuffed animals once – Akihiko quickly conjured a lie and claimed that the beloved bear was for when Misaki's nephew came over to play.

That morning, Oya got there before Akihiko had risen, leaving him and Misaki in the apartment, alone.

"So," Oya started, fiddling nervously with the bulky watch on his wrist, "I never got your side of the story with the whole, moving in thing with Usami-sensei thing."

Misaki, who was in the kitchen gathering the ingredients to make omurice, glanced over his shoulder and replied, "Oh, I don't really know what to say. I mean, it's…changed my life, definitely."

He wondered why Oya really cared, when he knew that Misaki had come to the understanding that there was something about him that clearly irked the journalist. It wasn't, he thought, because Oya actually imagined that his readers really cared about Misaki's existence. But rather, he was certain the young man was looking for another source to gush over Akihiko's charitable nature.

"Can I record this?" Oya suddenly asked and Misaki nodded in approval. Why not, he figured – it wasn't like he was going to say anything bad about Usagi-san anyway. "Alright, so what was so life changing about living with Usami-sensei?"

_I dunno, because I live in a huge mansion now, I got a job at a top publishing company, and I've figured out that I'm madly in love with a __**man**__?_

"Well, I mean my life was pretty much normal before I met Usag…erm, I mean Usami-sensei. He spoils me a lot," Misaki said, wiping his hands on a towel as he rounded the island counter and made his way toward the dining table where Oya was seated. "He takes good care of me."

Misaki bit his lip at that thought, considering Akihiko took care if him in more ways than just clothing and food. He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that one wrong word may give the already suspicious Oya the wrong impression about his and Akihiko's relationship, and the journalist may begin to notice the undercurrent of flirting in the couple's daily banter. The guest had already witnessed a few fatal clues to their secret liaison – first, when Akihiko suggestively brushed Misaki's hand when he was handing him his mug of coffee and then there was that time when Misaki was cooking and Akihiko instinctively snuck behind him and wrapped his arms round his waist.

"Really?" Oya hummed. And then, fixing the younger boy with a gimlet eye, he asked, "Is it difficult, fitting in as university student when your life is … very far from average?" His tone was nonchalant, but the intensity of his eyes seemed to pierce Misaki's brain, pushing closer and closer to the truth. Misaki swallowed hard and replied.

"S-sure, I guess. I mean the first few days of classes my freshman year no one would talk to me because they thought I was related to him!" he pretended to laugh it off, though his stomach was suddenly very tight. "But…but, I'm all right here," he quickly added. "I feel like I get more opportunities being with Usagi-san! I mean, he…he helped me get a job! At Marukawa Shouten!" When Oya gave him a curious look, he felt his nerves pinch. "I-I mean I went and interviewed for the job and everything like anyone else would, but Usagi-san gave me a great recommendation and it really helped!"

"I noticed that you call him Usagi-san," Oya said, raising a brow, "…what a peculiar nickname."

Misaki flushed. Shit, he'd been caught. Sputtering, he floundered for a response. "Oh, my brother came up with the name, actually! I guess its just because Usami sounds a lot like Usagi and it just stuck…I really don't know why I call him it, honestly."

Misaki lowering his gaze to his stubbly bitten fingernails and Oya blinked, taking a second to process. But with simple assent he nodded, not pressing the issue any further, and Misaki suddenly felt a wave of relief. They waited for Akihiko to wake with simpler conversation, Misaki indulging Oya in nostalgic stories of his earliest days studying with Akihiko when he was still in high school. And as they talked, Misaki reflected that the really good thing about Oya was that he, like Akihiko, had a keen sense of others and made him feel as if he didn't need to admit his deep dark secrets because he already understood.


	4. FOUR

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody! In celebration of my last week of real school - from here on out its finals *gulp* -I've decided to post another chapter of Can You Keep A Secret! This story has really been a lot of fun to write and you guys have been a great audience so far. I thank everyone for reviewing and favoriting the story. It really means a lot to me. Ahem...anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next installment!

* * *

**FOUR**

Nothing was more embarrassing than Akihiko trying to seduce Misaki in public. He usually put up a good fight, even if he had lost every battle to date. But tonight, Misaki wasn't feeling so confident in his resistance skills.

There really wasn't much escape this time. It was another Friday evening; another night of accompanying Akihiko at his latest social rendezvous, a charity event for the preservation of panda bears in an exclusive club on the east side of Setagaya. Although the party was supposed to be about pandas, it was implicitly understood that pandas were of little interest to anyone. Actually, the donation table was what you did when you wanted to escape the swirling, posh crowd round the bar; already Akihiko been stalked down by everyone, from famous politicians to young budding actresses, and the author's well practiced, poised smile was beginning to waver.

Though Misaki had his fill of party going with Akihiko for one summer – indeed, he was certain he'd had enough for one_ lifetime_ – the summer social season forged on and hosts continued inviting the author who was, par usual, expected to attend by order of Aikawa (Misaki was certain this was some kind of cruel punishment for disappearing last week). Now, after all this partying, Akihiko was exceptionally huffy and horny, therefore extremely dangerous to the youth. And being the unfortunate go-to tag-along, Misaki had no choice but to suit up and except each naughty whisper and suggestive touch with valiant restraint.

Luckily tonight, Oya hadn't attended. Because right now, Akihiko's sneaky snuggling was painfully obvious.

Standing in the corner of the room, confident that the many pairs of eyes that might see were far from interested in their matters, Akihiko leaned in just a little and brushed a light kiss over Misaki's ear. The young man tensed and jolted away, hissing, "Usagi-san! Don't even start!"

"No one is looking at us." Akihiko's eyes scanned the room again with one smooth sweep, just to prove that he was right.

Misaki blew out an exasperated breath and crossed his arms. Akihiko took this as an opportunity to continue. He leaned in again, the tip of his nose brushing just barely along the shell of Misaki's ear before he poked out his tongue and dabbed the burning organ to Misaki's prickling skin. The boy tried to shrug him off quickly, but Akihiko was back a second later, planting kisses along the boy's neck. "Stop it Usagi-san!"

There was a momentary struggle, where Misaki swatted the bunny away with a few hard slaps and despite the man's flinching, he chuckled heartily, amused with it all. It was infuriating and Misaki resorted to staring off into the crowd resentfully, wishing that someone would come chat up the author, sparing Misaki from another moment of being publicly molested.

Five seconds went by before he felt Akihiko buzzing round his ear again, murmuring softly, "Let's get out here. The hotel is only fifteen minutes away."

"No, Usagi-san! You just want to have se…. uh, I mean you just want to do_ those_ things!"

Akihiko blew a breath that was half exasperated chuckle. "And what is wrong with that?"

The youth frowned, pushing Akihiko away. "I want to have a normal trip for once!" he practically barked with frustration. He caught the volume of his voice and lowered it quickly, hissing, "No perverted stuff!"

"Ah, come on Misaki," Akihiko huffed, and crossed his arms, feeling his own irritation starting to rise. "Where's the fun in that?"

Misaki didn't say anything. "Well…we could watch a movie or play cards or something, for once," he lamely supplied which earned another chuckle from the author.

"Yeah right, kid," Akihiko scoffed. He seemed to have lost interest in this conversation because he straightened himself and said, "Listen, I am going to go be a good boy and 'give back'. And after that we are finding my car and heading back to the hotel. I'm tired and my feet hurt."

Misaki gaped fiercely, trying to find some kind of angle to retort, but seeing that the youth was looking forward to leaving, he really couldn't argue. Eventually nodding, he said, "Alright. Just…don't go crazy with your charity. No more than 500,000 yen."

Akihiko laughed. "Fine, fine."

Misaki glared at the man's back as he walked away. He wondered why he allowed himself to be bossed around this way. But the more he looked at Akihiko's back, he started noticing the slight sway in the man's hips as he sauntered across the room, and then he dared to look a little lower – just peeking – at the author's ass. He caught himself before anyone else did, and in a flustering flush he scurried over to a waiter and grabbed some kind of fruity drink with a slice of lemon off his platter in a sudden need for alcohol. He wasn't looking at Akihiko – the man was not sexy in any stretch of the imagination…though that suit really did accentuate all the right places…

He choked on the lemon wedge.

* * *

Once they were in the car, Akihiko was back to harassing Misaki's neck. This time however, the brunet had tipped his head slightly to the side, allowing Akihiko just a little bit more access. Leaning over the separator between their seats, Akihiko was leaning in closer and closer to the passenger's side, his kisses getting more and more intense, as he licked and sucked at the taught skin of Misaki's neck.

Quickly the attention was drawn back to Misaki's lips, but this time the kisses were much slower, lazier, while his hands began to roam along the contours of the little brunet's body. It was a dreamy, romantic kind of kiss and Misaki wondered if Akihiko felt the same sense of urgency that he did, considering they were making out in a parking lot, just an elevator ride away from some of the highest profile people in the country. But Akihiko seemed willing to chance it. He was in no rush, taking his time as he enjoyed the kiss and touched…and held…and _squeezed._ Misaki tried to keep track of those naughty hands - gripping his hip, running along ribs, coming back up to run through his hair, cupping his jaw, caressing his neck, warmly smoothing over his chest, brushing the taut skin around his hardening nipples – but he was lost in it all, the thrill of getting away with this in public, the laziness of Akihiko's touches, the thought of having to stop when it just was getting good.

He squirmed for good measure, and in between kisses, he whined, "Usagi-san, not…not here," though his mind was replying, _Here, yes, here. Do it here._

Akihiko leaned in for another kiss, murmuring, "I don't think I can wait any longer, Misaki." His hand moved again, reaching round to grope his ass. This wasn't lazy or gentle – it was confident, deliberate fingers squeezing and massaging, punctuating a very firm message.

"Uhn…but Usagi-san, just…stop for a sec!" The man broke the kiss, staring at Misaki impatiently. They were both panting, Misaki's head spinning as he tried to draw back enough breath, Akihiko's eyes narrowed. When the younger man felt a second rough squeeze to his backside he jerked away, indicating that the conversation wasn't over. "The hotel can't be that far away, Usagi-san. We can…" he blushed at this. "…We can make it. Right?"

Akihiko sighed, huffily, "I can't drive when I'm like this, Misaki." At first, Misaki had no idea what he'd been talking about, but something drew his eyes toward the man's nether regions, and despite the darkness, he could make out the lump that was beginning to tent the front of the man's slacks.

"Well then…_don't_ be like that!" he squeaked in reply.

At first he was expecting Akihiko to become even more petulant with him, but the author smirked and leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek while grabbing Misaki's hand and setting it right over the bulge. Suddenly, Misaki understood exactly _how_ Akihiko was expecting to fix his little problem. "…Oh, hell, no! Usagi-san, I draw the line!"

But the author wasn't interested in debating – he had already captured Misaki's lips in a very erotic kiss and was pressing Misaki against the passenger seat so there was really no escape for the boy. He jerked for a second, managing to tear Akihiko's lips away for a moment, but the older man who was apparently enjoying this little game, tutted playfully, "Ah, ah, ah, Misaki. There's no reason to be shy."

"Y-yes there is!" Misaki stuttered frantically in reply in between a series of short, sweet kisses. "We're…we're in public!"

Akihiko pulled back. "That doesn't matter." His tone was so matter-of-fact Misaki started feeling the bearings of his argument slipping.

Desperate, he said, "Well…can't it wait for the hotel?"

Akihiko pressed closer, lips and tongue finding interest sucking on the knob of his collarbone. "You mean," he asked between two very sensual sucks, "You'll do_ it_ for me if we wait?"

Misaki knew exactly what _it_ was, and the thought alone made his stomach flip. He had to swallow the knot in his voice before he replied, "Y…yeah, as long as we can just get out of here."

He knew this was a deal with the devil and the second it escaped his mouth, he regretted saying it. Akihiko, on the other hand, was suddenly peppy, a like a child on Christmas. He just pulled away, practically banging his knee on the steering wheel as he hopped back into the driver's seat, and started the car's engine with a flourish before they peeled out. There was no way they were driving at the speed limit…or a safe speed at all. And every turn Akihiko took was sharp and crazy and Misaki's stomach flipped a few times when the older man had to suddenly stop at a red light.

_Maybe he'll kill me,_ Misaki thought, tensely gripping the seat as Akihiko swerved around a corner. _Then I won't have to do it. I won't have to…to do __**that**__._

But he figured the guy would somehow track him down, even in the spirit world, and make him finish the job.


	5. FIVE

**Author's note: **In celebration of the Junjou OVA that is coming out, I present the next installment of CYAS (hooray for acronyms!). Thanks for every review, favorite, and read that each of my stories have gotten so far. You're the greatest audience ever!

* * *

**FIVE**

How had they gotten here again? Misaki was trying to keep track of things but everything was like a blur, some kind of drunken rush. Normally, Misaki would try to avoid this, find some way to talk himself (or squirm) his way free, but Akihiko was touching and kissing and the last thing he was thinking about was escape.

Once they had stopped the car in the hotel parking lot, they shared a long, deep kiss. Akihiko sighed happily and Misaki was leaning heavily against him. There was a moment where they both just sat there in an embrace, hoping no one else would show up, while leaning against the side of Akihiko's car.

From there, Misaki couldn't keep things straight. There was some words said between them, then they were grabbing luggage, walking…and then inside the swank hotel talking to the receptionist at the lobby desk. Akihiko did the talking, and someone said something, and then he replied in his usual purring manner, and suddenly Misaki was being whisked away toward the elevator. They walked evenly, to avoid attention, but Misaki could feel the impatience in Akihiko's presence, the desire to hurry faster faster faster.

They made it to the elevator, an excruciatingly long ride all the way to the pent house (Akihiko _always_ had to have a pent) staring impatiently at large metal doors that kept them trapped in the car. Akihiko took his hand at one point, Misaki felt the warmth squeeze his own, an impending touch of what was to come.

Then they made it – they were free. They made their way down the hallway with urgency to another door, imposing and mahogany, and Akihiko was muttering curses as he tried to unlock the door, eventually throwing it open and shoving his way inside. That was when things suddenly went faster. It started with one kiss, then Akihiko practically fell on top of him, pinning him to the wall and kissing him hungrily again and again, fingers running through hair, across skin, along the hemlines of pesky clothing. Misaki was panting and gasping and trying to keep up, all while mumbling his usual string of "Usagi-san, stop it!" and "You're such a pervert."

They stumbled their way through the huge hotel room – Misaki spotted faintly that there was a living room area with some couches and a fireplace that took the centre of the room, a kitchen area behind them, glass windows along the entire back wall that showcased the skyline, little details he could worry about in the morning, once he managed to fight off his ravenous lover.

Lips were locked, shoes getting kicked off clumsily, Akihiko struggling his way from his suit jacket—their backs rammed into something…was that a wall? They continued kissing and touching, Misaki moaning as Akihiko's fingers danced along his hips, ribcage, back, neck, hair, face, cheeks, and over again, everywhere at once. It was forced down quickly with a hard swallow and a hard bite of the lip. Akihiko didn't seem to like that and said, "Misaki, don't do that," leaning down to free Misaki's abused lip with his own teeth, then nibbling at it with each kiss, saying in between, "Lets get to the room. I don't think I can handle it much longer."

Misaki nodded. Then he wished he hadn't. Akihiko was giddy and he was thinking, "Shit, not again," as Akihiko dragged him along to the bedroom.

As soon as they made it inside, lips connected, tongues clashed, and jackets and ties were shed, then buttons were loosened and they began some heavily erotic necking.

"Mnnh," Misaki moaned as he was being directed toward the mattress. "Usagi-san, lets not do this tonight. I'm tired." Akihiko ignored this, and instead, began unbuttoning his own slacks, heading toward the bedroom.

"Ah, but love, promise is a promise Misaki," Akihiko purred, lowering to kiss one of the knobs of Misaki's collarbone.

Damn it. Misaki had practically forgotten about his little promise in the rush of things. "Uh…well, I retract that statement now," he quickly responded, though he knew escape was going to be futile the way Akihiko was looking at him.

"That's not fair Misaki," Akihiko tutted with false disappointment. "You promised that you'd fix it once we got back."

There was a pause and then suddenly a glimmer of hope. Well, there was no way to fix something if it wasn't broke right? There was no way Akihiko still had a boner like he did before. After practically flipping the car twice, running a red light, and almost running over a valet parker, the last thing that should be on any man's mind was sex. "Don't…ah, don't be greedy," he scolded between a moan. "You seem to be fine now." Of course, Misaki had no idea if this was true, considering he didn't want to glance down and just flat out look at it. So sneakily, while the older man was ravishing his neck, he just shifted his leg, ever so slightly in between the author's, just seeing if…

Shit, he really did have a boner. It was straining against his pants, and Misaki practically jumped in horror – whether he was more surprised that he actually had the nerve to do such a thing or the fact that a man had managed to make his way through a crowd of people in the lobby with this thing, he wasn't quite sure.

Akihiko had figured out Misaki's plan long before though and had already dipped down to brush his lips against the shell of Misaki's ear. "My cock is about to bust my zipper open – how on earth do I look fine?"

Misaki scrunched his nose, partially because he had backed himself in a corner, and partially because the thought of Akihiko's engorged length gave his own libido a delightful shiver and that alone was horrific. "I-I don't know," Misaki replied, forcing a carefree laugh. But when barely-open lavender eyes goaded him with serious conviction, Misaki knew that no argument in the world would ever be enough to save him.

Decided he better just get it over with, he huffed a dramatic sigh (he didn't want Akihiko getting the idea that he was actually going to enjoy this) before he snatched Akihiko's hand and plopped down onto the edge of the mattress. The older man, who was still standing, towered over him, watching. His cock - which was now conveniently located directly in front of the younger man's face - was just as Akihiko had described it. The fabric of his slacks bulged dangerously. Seeing Misaki's expression – which was most likely one of dread and mild awe – Akihiko chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair. Misaki curtly ducked away from the touch and swatted him off, making clear that this was not a bonding moment in any means.

Misaki swallowed hard, questioned himself once more, before he reached a single hand forward to pull down the zipper. He admitted it was difficult to ease the slider over the taut ridge of Akihiko's erection (another moment for the older man to flash a grin of pride), but eventually he freed the fabric, revealing a peephole to Akihiko's briefs. The cool air that brushed against the fabric over his heat gave the novelist reason to grunt in anticipation, and something in Misaki revelled in the fact that he had such power over the man. Taking the next step, Misaki's fingers stumbled to unfasten Akihiko's belt.

"Unngh, Misaki, hurry up. This isn't time to be diligent."

Misaki's glower sliced through the darkness, as he hissed, "Shut up and be patient, Usagi-san. You're lucky I'm doing this at all."

The man chuckled, probably because he realized how true that statement really was. Feeling the need to increase the sexuality of the moment, Akihiko placed one of his hands on the crown of Misaki's head, running his fingers along the smooth hair.

Now, with his belt opened and zipper free, the pants were easy to pull down – just to the man's ankles for now – revealing the rest of the grey boxer briefs that had already been darkened by the older man's need.

Misaki sighed.

Well, this was it.

He reached forward, fingers shaking, and brushed the fabric over Akihiko's length. He jolted back, surprised by the heat, the hardness, the needy grunt that came from up above him. He touched again and this time the man's whole body trembled. Tongue darting out to wet his lips, voice unsteady yet still smooth with pride, Akihiko said, "Misaki, love, can you just cut to the chase please? As much as I love this little game, you know how far my patience lasts."

Misaki scowled. "Just wait a second!"

Akihiko huffed and wiggled his hips impatiently, though the amused quirk in his lips plain to see with the moon highlighting his face. The boy grimaced, then sighed, and finally he was looping his fingers around the waistband of Akihiko's briefs. And then…

Misaki shuddered. This…this was_ his_. Akihiko's length was warm in his hands and Misaki couldn't think or breathe. All he could do was stare, fingers trembling. Half-drunken logic noted how it began to swell even more in his hands, and Misaki swallowed hard. He heard a chuckle above him. Sharp eyes snapped upward and Misaki puffed his cheeks out in annoyance. The last thing he needed right now was to be teased.

Seeing the irritation in his lover's eyes, Akihiko, amused, explained, "You act like you've never seen it before."

"Doesn't make it any less horrific looking," Misaki muttered. But in a quick attempt to shut Akihiko up, the brunet ran a finger along the length, causing the older man to lose whatever snarky response he'd prepared in a throaty groan.

"_Ahh_, shit."

Misaki smirked – well, that was an easy enough way to end the conversation. Trying again, he stroked in the exact same manner, index and middle finger rolling against the rigid skin. Though wary, the touch was powerful, earning another round of delighted curses from the older man. Misaki continued this, his touches venturing down toward the tip, experimentally flicking over the slit before backing away toward the base once more.

Geesh it was warm. And leaking. He wondered if this was what it was like every time Akihiko tended to him…and the thought alone was so embarrassing he jerked himself away from it, focusing on the different sounds he could make the older man make depending on which area he touched. He felt strong fingers dig into his hair, pulling his head closer, heard the needy grunts of pleasure resonating above him, cloud-covered moonlight leaving the room with a hazy glow.

Eventually, through a few weak gasps, Akihiko interjected, "Uhmm, Misaki…suck." At first Misaki pretended to not hear him – anyway, he was half drunk and the mystery of this hand job was enough to mesmerize him – but Akihiko repeated, "Misaki, suck me."

With his attention caught by the lewd request, he glanced up at Akihiko, and frowned. "No, I really don't want to do that."

"Come on," Akihiko crooned. With a slight tug, Akihiko pulled Misaki's face closer to his cock, "Taste me."

"S-sorry…I just, uh, brushed my teeth," the brunet fibbed.

"Bull shit."

Oh, it didn't look entirely awful, his drunken logic supposed. Then it added, _You __**love**__ this guy, right? Just go ahead and do it. As a congratulations for all the success he's been having this year…._Anyway, knowing Usagi-san, he knew that once the man had conjured an idea there was no way to escape it – just taking it now would just be easier in the end. Between his drunkenness, and the sudden thought of how handsome Akihiko looked tonight, Misaki leaned in a little closer, feeling his inhibition wane.

Then, with a soft moan, Misaki gave in and did it. His tongue peeked out between his parted lips and tentatively licked the length, just a quick taste. Akihiko groaned and Misaki tried again, this time licking from tip to base. Akihiko's taste hit him, musky and powerful – undeniably masculine.

"Mmmn, yes," Akihiko hummed. "That feels so good. Keep going." The man stroked Misaki's hair gently, a little gesture of encouragement that was just as peculiar as it was sweet. The man moved himself so he was on the bed, guiding the younger to sit between his legs. Once situated, Misaki licked him a third time experimentally and Akihiko groaned.

Misaki shuddered and suddenly heat and drunkenness and curiosity ploughed through his rationality. Opening his mouth wider, Misaki took more of him in. But the farther he went, he more difficult it became and suddenly he was trying to work his tongue around the swollen length, following an awkward pattern. He really had no idea what he was doing, his jaw slack as he tried to distract himself from the burning heat that was practically _choking _him at this point.

Was he supposed to swallow? Or move? Or even try to fit the whole thing in his mouth? How on earth did Akihiko even breathe while doing this?

He didn't want to gag – but a particular sensation caused the older man to buck his hips, sending the cockhead deep into his throat almost violently. "Ack!" He tried to remain still, play it cool, but Akihiko was riding his own wave of pleasure at this point and hadn't even noticed the younger's discomfort. Misaki stubbornly tried again, this time deciding he would stick to the first half of the length instead. The last thing he wanted to happen would be to die giving his very first blowjob.

He continued for a few minutes, paying particular attention to the swollen head, where there was much less chance of choking to death. He knew he was doing awful – he had no idea what to do with his tongue or his teeth and ended up just sucking over and over – and yet, within a few minutes, Akihiko's hips began jerking erratically. "Ungh, ahh, Mi-Misaki, m-move!"

Not quite certain what to do, (or even what Akihiko was saying) Misaki stared up at the author dumbly. Huh…

But suddenly he was fisting Misaki's hair, and he roughly pulled, tugging Misaki away from him. The young man wailed at the jolt of pain, and opened his mouth to protest – but his thought was lost when the older man exploded in orgasm, waves of pleasure reducing him to a shivering, gasping mess.

"Ah…oh shit, oh wow," Akihiko sighed, breathing staggered, laying limp against the headboard. Once he had gathered himself, he glanced over at Misaki, who was at the foot of the bed, and crawled over to wrap his arms around the young man. "Ah, Misaki, I love you," he purred, kissing him three times on the cheek. "That was…amazing." Misaki scrunched his nose, wondering what on earth was so amazing about it…but he let it go, deciding if Akihiko thought it was sufficient enough, then he must have done a decent job.

They sat for a while in silence. Akihiko had flopped backward onto the mattress, his breathing still evening out, boxers abandoned somewhere along the lines. Misaki was still in the same place, staring out into the darkness of the unfamiliar room. Suddenly, realizing what had just happened and what he had just done, Misaki gasped. How…_humiliating_.

Then, to make matters worse, he felt the weight on the mattress shift, and suddenly cool hands were brushing at the nape of his neck. "Mii-chan," Akihiko purred. The sheets rustled behind him as Akihiko leaned in and pressed a kiss to the knob of his spine at the base of his neck. "Lets lay down."

Misaki knew where this was going already and he shoved the author away. "Get away from me," he snipped. "Don't even try to pretend that you can trick me. I know you too well." Crossing his arms over his chest huffily, he grumbled sourly, "You know, for an author, you're not very creative," fingering at the corner of the rumpled sheets.

"Touché."

Relaxing slightly, Misaki sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He was still flushed from his earlier exertions and was starting to feel the weight the alcohol starting to settle in. He was about the turn round and crawl underneath the blankets, when…

Suddenly a hand clapped onto his shoulder, his captor easily pulling the diminutive boy down with one smooth tug. Misaki hollered in protest and surprise, back hitting the mattress with a _thunk_. Within a moment Akihiko had already managed to straddle him, effectively pinning his flailing prisoner to the bed.

"You surprised me today," the man purred. "I didn't know you had it in you. I guess I still have a lot to learn…. Lets start now. Chapter 1 of The Care and Feeding of Misaki: Sexual tendencies." Bending down at the elbows, he dipped low and pressed a kiss to Misaki's cheek.

"Ack! Usagi-san! Stop it – I am more than a sexual object! I have rights! _Usagi-san_!"

"Oh, ho, ho but this is a repayment! Don't you want to be rewarded for your hard work?" Akihiko questioned though it really wasn't a question, but rather a firm statement that was punctuated by a mischievous hand dipping between Misaki's legs. He rubbed hard and the boy squeaked in a mixture of pleasure and restraint.

"_Ah_, nngh, Usagi-san! Quit it!" Misaki hissed. He tried to pull an arm free from Akihiko's grip, but no matter how much he struggled, his shortcomings in the height and weight department left him trapped on the bed with no escape.

He was trapped.

Once again, Akihiko had won.

~o~

By the end of the night, Akihiko had completed his first course in Pleasuring Misaki 101 with a perfect score.

Now, lying underneath a mound of sheets, peppered with kisses, drenched with sweat, and wearing a pouty scowl, Misaki cursed his luck. Of course he couldn't get away with just one round of basic, _normal_ sex. No, Akihiko had taken him doggy style, then on a chair, then whilst trying to spoon him in the bed. At the thought of it, Misaki cursed a second time. Since when had his life had become a cheesy Karma Sutra pamphlet?

He smoothed his fingers aimlessly over a lobe in the bed sheets, listening to the buzz of the city that managed to resonate all the way up here to the top floor of this titan of a hotel. Misaki always had trouble sleeping in hotels. It boggled his mind that Akihiko, laying on the opposite side of the bed, could sprawl so awkwardly in his sleep, bound by bed sheets, foot dangling off the edge of the bed, and snore so obliviously. You'd think he'd been drugged with some heavy-duty narcotic or something, judging by the way the man just laid there like an abused doll, hips jerked into an inhuman position. Either Akihiko was double jointed or he was missing part of his spine.

Then again, ever since the first time Misaki slept with Akihiko, he had done this, twisting himself life a pretzel on every futon, every hotel bed, every night on his own mattress, much to the brunet's confusion and disgust. It was one of the many quirks that were just so…Akihiko.

With this thought, Misaki shifted a little closer to the man, his skin humming with pleasure from the warmth of Akihiho's body. He knew it was safe now to cuddle…just a little bit of course. He let his toes brush the man's shin, drawing his head in closer to that perfect little nook right underneath his jaw.

He felt Akihiko stir for a moment and he pulled away cautiously, examining the novelist's face for any signs of consciousness, before returning to his spot. They lay there like that until morning, when a lone streak of sunlight managed to peak through a crack in the thick curtains. That gave Misaki four free-hours of unconscious Akihiko time, time that gave him courage to kiss and nuzzle his lover knowing that no one in the world would ever see him.


End file.
